My father's paintings--and mine

My father took up painting in his latter years, and he was pretty good, too. He liked to paint urban scenes. But when he died in 1911, only a few of his paintings went to family members. For one reason, most of them were very large. So dozens were left, and his wife had no room for them in her new apartment. So she proposed to put them in her daughter's attic. It is amazing how many people think paintings, furniture, and musical instruments don't need special care, such as climate control. Someone donated a piano to our library, which gussied up the place no end, but was almost unplayable because the sounding board was warped. But I digress.

I took a few of dad's paintings, gave one or two to my kids, and hung two in my house, where looking at them gives me great pleasure. But the disposition of the rest made me think about my own paintings.

Not all my paintings are great successes, although I work hard on them. Some are boring or banal. Those I either put aside for further work or discard. Some I paint over. One or two I have managed to sell, or give to friends.But the vast majority, the ones that came out well, are mostly hanging on my walls. And my walls are full. Adding a room is not an option--I already have 8.

I often see paintings by unknowns, like me, in my favorite retail outlet, the Good Will. Some of them are very good and are worthy of more that the $20-50 that they fetch, mainly for the frames.

So, except for a treasured few, I would like to sell or give away my paintings.